


Derek Hale and the Cliffhanger Kid

by LPM



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Breeding Cycle, Fingerfucking, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Derek, Omega Verse, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I ain’t even got your name,” Stiles says once the ropes are all gone and the other man sits rubbing where his skin is tender.</p><p>“Derek,” the man says slowly</p><p>“ah…well I’m Stiles…they call me the Cliffhanger Kid on account of how I’m always escapin’ tough binds by the skin of my teeth” Stiles replies, neglecting to mention that nobody actually ever calls him that.</p><p> “That don't make sense” Derek says drily, “and that name’s sillier’n a stallion in a bonnet”</p><p>They both chuckle.</p><p>or</p><p>Stiles gets cheated in a game, instead of money, he gets Derek, an omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Hale and the Cliffhanger Kid

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's all sorts of corny and what, but eh. I had fun. I wrote the first part ages ago and then just decided to finish it off. I hope it's somewhat enjoyable. I wrote it between working on my other unfinished stories, hahaha I have a short attention span, le sigh.

The odds look pretty seriously stacked against him, but they didn’t call Stiles Stilinski the Cliffhanger Kid for nothing…ok well no one actually calls him that but he likes to think that, if he had a proper nickname, it would be that.

 

“Your call kid” Steely Bill, the gold-toothed bandit he’d challenged, says. When Steely Bill smirks at him, all three of his dingy gold teeth flash in the flickering firelight.

 

“I’m just gonna remind you all that I ain’t a kid” Stiles says mildly. Steely Bill, Rothschild Peabody, his tatty British sidekick, and Babyface Jones, the devilishly handsome sharpshooter that rode with them, all guffawed.

 

“You ain’t older’n a mole on a baby’s ass!” Babyface crows. Stiles wants to tell him that that makes not a lick of sense, but instead he focuses on the game.

 

“You’d still be in short pants, toddling about with your governess and whining for milky tea if we were in London” Rothschild says snootily and Stiles doesn’t understand his level of hauteur considering the guy is wearing molding lace from a time when a man still wore lace. That is to say, not now.

 

“Yeah, yeah, play yer hand Bill” Stiles grunts, and Steely Bill narrows his eyes at him from across the flames.

 

“You tryin’ to sass me boy?” he growls, and Stiles sighs,

 

“No, of course not.” He deadpans. All 3 of the bandits regard him with narrow eyes but the game moves forward after a moment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You musta cheated!” Steely Bill shouts later, when Stiles crushes him for the umpteenth time. Even Rothschild and Babyface look dubious as they nod halfhearted agreement. Stiles stands and dusts himself off,

 

“I didn’t cheat a single second and you know it. Hand over the spoils Bill, you know the law” he says.

 

300 gold coins had been the wager when Stiles had signed up to take on Steely Bill, luckiest man around. 300 gold coins that will see him set and living large for years. That was the reason he’d come, putting his safety in the hands of 3 of the scummiest men anybody knew.

 

“Fine…just…wait here…” Steely Bill growls for a moment, then he adjourns to his wagon with his 2 goons in tow.

 

Stiles waits for what seems like forever before they come back out, dragging something with them. When they get closer, he realizes that they’re dragging a  _man_  between them.

 

“There!” Bill grunts, chucking the person at him. Stiles, unprepared, ends up with an armful of hooded and bound man pinning him momentarily in place.

 

“This ain’t 300 gold coins Bill!” Stiles cries and Bill smirks nastily at him.

 

“So it ain’t.” he says. Stiles starts getting up but Bill levels a pistol at his face, cocking it for effect,

 

“I wouldn’t if I were you” he drawls,

 

“that there is a premium foreign import,” Rothschild pipes up, sniggering “an omega, right at the tip of heat.”

 

The words send shockwaves rippling down Stiles’ spine. There aren’t many werewolves in his country, they come from the neighboring lands and most people rarely come face to face with one. An omega, from what he’s learned, is even rarer to meet and twice as mysterious. Werewolf heat is also the stuff of legends, and an omega’s especially so.

 

“I don’t care if it's a can of soup! This ain’t what we bargained for!”

 

Stiles yells. Bill’s expression is ugly when he crouches in close to Stiles,

 

“I don’t care.” He growls.

 

Then Stiles’ world goes black.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Rotten, no-good, lint lickin’ piece of scum!” are the first words out of Stiles’ mouth when he wakes up hours later, head throbbing and muscles stiff.

 

“You aren’t lying” an unfamiliar voice pipes up and Stiles scrambles back, eyes finding the hooded man who was supposedly his taking from the game.

 

“Scuse you?” he grumped, rubbing the tender knot where Steely Bill’s pistol had made intimate with his head.

 

“I  _said_ , you aren’t lying…about that rotten whore’s offal what stole me and cheated you”

 

Stiles set his mouth in a grim line thinking of Bill and his gang of stinking cronies. He’d get them back, but  _first_ …

 

“Let’s get you untied, that sack over your face can’t be too comfortable,” he says, reaching to the stranger,

 

“I’d be much obliged” the other man says.

 

Upon ripping off the burlap, Stiles momentarily forgets how to breath, as the face on the other side of that rough-hewn sack is about the most gorgeous he’s ever seen.

 

“Well, ain’t  _you_  a looker.” He whistles softly, and the other man scoffs,

 

“if you say so”

 

Stiles makes quick work of the ropes binding the man’s hands and feet, noticing his lithely muscular build with rapidly growing interest. Stiles’ appetites have wandered to men just as often as women but he thinks this man here surpasses anyone he’s ever wanted before, man or woman.

 

“I ain’t even got your name,” Stiles says once the ropes are all gone and the other man sits rubbing where his skin is tender.

 

“Derek,” the man says slowly

 

“ah…well I’m Stiles…they call me the Cliffhanger Kid on account of how I’m always escapin’ tough binds by the skin of my teeth” Stiles replies, neglecting to mention that nobody actually ever calls him that.

 

“That don't make sense” Derek says drily, “and that name’s sillier’n a stallion in a bonnet”

 

They both chuckle.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Derek told Stiles of himself. How a no-good two-bit bandit like Steely Bill and his two buffoons had managed to capture a wolf.

 

“I’m an omega and all…well…it’s too close to the matin’ moon, I go all weak and unaware around this time. They shot me with a wolfsbane dart and drug me back to their wagon, tied me up with wolfsbane dipped ropes and rode me over the border.”

 

He’d confessed, completely unabashed at discussing something as intimate as his mating cycle with a complete stranger.

“What about yer folks? Nobody saw ‘em snatch ya?” Stiles asked and Derek’s expression had gone a bit melancholy,

 

“not a soul,” he’d said, “all dead in a fire a couple years back. It’s just me now.”

 

“well I reckon we’re two of a kind then,” Stiles said, “my ma died when I was a kid and my pappy took a bullet to the chest not too long after. I been on my own for a while”

 

Derek expressed no desire to return to his homeland. Stiles didn’t press it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A month passes, then another, and another, until Derek and Stiles have been together for three whole months, roaming from town to town. They’d agreed to find Steely Bill and Co. teach them a lesson about snatching people, but they went along at an easy pace, following the bandits’ trail.

 

Stiles still notices Derek, tempting in his formfitting riding clothes. Other people notice Derek too, wherever they go there are eyes on him, the gorgeous stranger whose eyes could stop somebody dead in their tracks. As their time together ticks on, Stiles’ fantasies grow more vivid and more frequent, to the point where nights are spent desperately hard in his tent, fisting himself to images of Derek spread open beneath him, moaning into the dark.  Sometimes he thinks Derek must know, because he looks at him too intensely for minutes at a time, before just looking away. He knows for sure there’s  _something_ there, lying between them in the silence.

 

“Hey there Sam, where’s yer handsome friend? Dean, was it?” Polly, the bar girl at the saloon they’ve been frequenting for the past two weeks under aliases, asks as she plunks down a frothing beer. Stiles gives her a crooked smile,

 

 

 

“he ain’t here today sugar, why don’t you come play with ol Sammy instead?” he says playfully, grabbing at her waist. She giggles and slips away. They flirt and they play games but its all harmless. Stiles had realized a month ago, while he was buried balls deep inside a nubile, dark haired stable boy whose legs had spread for him before he could ask, that he doesn’t really want anyone else. Unless it’s Derek.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles finishes at the saloon early, after only one beer, and ambles to their campsite at the edge of town. He’d made enough coin at the cards in every town to put them up in a decent hotel, and there was the neat little bundle they’d earned working for that one month in a big city, but somehow he and Derek both preferred laying out their big tent and sleeping outside.

 

The fire at the site is already banked, and there are no lights on in the tent so Stiles figures Derek must be asleep already. Unusual in that it’s barely grazing 10 pm and Derek is usually somewhat of a night owl, but he’s been odd the past few days, wan and feeble for hours and then so energetic he nearly vibrated.

 

Stiles does his business off to the side, where they’d dug a latrine, and splashes water on his face and in his mouth before retiring to their tent.

 

What he sees on stepping inside stops him dead in his tracks.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Shit, Stiles….nnnggg….what…what’re you doing back!?” Derek pants, and Stiles, for the first time in his life, can’t find it in himself to speak.

 

Derek is completely naked, curled on his side on top of his bedroll which is soaked in sweat. He looks wrecked, as if he’s been running for a very long time in the sun, and his skin gleams with perspiration. He’s flushed pink and shivering under Stiles’ intense gaze, his eyes are wide with shock and heavy with desire.

 

“Derek?” Stiles questions and he’s shocked at the rough edge of his own voice. He realizes dimly that he’s half-hard already, just from looking. Derek gulps and lets out an unexpected whine,

 

“please, I can’t…Stiles I’m…it’s my heat! I thought you would be out late tonight with…nnnn…Polly” his cheeks are flushing darker red, and his eyes flash bright through the gloom. The tent is illuminated only by the brilliant moonlight, spilling pearly and cool through the open flap.

 

“Polly? No…” Stiles says quietly, and stares directly into Derek’s eyes,

 

“I don’t want her…I don’t want anyone else…”

 

They’re both still then, Derek’s heavy breaths the only sound.

 

“Then….” Derek almost whispers, and Stiles steps fully inside the tent, leaving the flap the smallest bit open to let in a sliver of white light.

 

“Yeah,” he says, and leans in to kiss for the first time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The temperature inside the tent is higher than it should be, elevated by Derek, whose body positively radiates heat. From the second Stiles’ lips had found Derek’s for the first time, they became inseparable, only parting briefly for air.

 

Stiles can’t believe what is happening, can’t believe that its Derek writhing beneath him, moaning with abandon, legs spread wantonly wide.

 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Derek gasps, nearly tearing Stiles’ clothes in his haste to get them off. Shoes, socks, shirt, pants, and underwear, all go flying under Derek’s swift fingers. Soon Stiles is naked, harder than he can remember ever being, and pressing hard kisses to Derek’s bruised lips.

 

“Oh god, tell me you have lubricant” Stiles gasps and Derek shakes his head, grasps Stiles’ hand, and guides it down, down, down.

 

“I can’t without anything to…” Stiles begins to protest, but stops when his fingers brush Derek’s wet little pucker. Almost heedless of Derek’s sharp cries, Stiles presses further, two fingers slipping easily inside his entrance.

 

“You’re so  _wet_ ” Stiles murmurs, adding a third finger. Derek’s eyes are solidly amber now, glowing uncontrollably,

 

“I’m an omega, we’re…this way” he says.

 

Stiles groans low in his throat, he’d thought he couldn’t get any more turned on.

 

He was wrong.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek is going out of his mind. The mating moon feels like a presence, ratcheting up his urge to mate and be bred almost beyond his control. His entrance is dripping wet, open and pliant and ready for Stiles to fill him, slide his cock inside and quench the burning lust that lives inside him.

 

He bites his lip and gets up on his knees, legs spread wide and entrance on full display, so like one of the slatternly omegas he’d known but uncaring about it. Never before had he been so eager and so frantic during a heat cycle, never before had the need to be filled been so incredibly potent. His senses are swamped with Stiles, and it seems to be triggering his arousal, making him wetter and hotter than he’s ever been.

 

“Fuck me Stiles, fill me with your thick cock,” he groans, and he knows what he must sound like, must look like. But by Stiles’ groan, he doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“Oh god Derek I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Stiles grunts,

“I’ve wanted to fill your tight little hole, fuck you til you forget your own name.”

He takes hold of his turgid length and guides it into Derek’s entrance, pressing inside slowly and drawing a long keening wail from the man beneath him.

 

Fulfillment sings through Derek’s veins as Stiles moves within him, the slick noises of their joining are like music in his ears. He arches sinuously and they kiss sloppy and wet as Stiles pounds into his hole, his hands big and hot on Derek’s hips.

 

“Uuuunnnng, yes,  _yes_ , Stiles!” Derek moans, and he’s so hyper sensitized to everything that he feels his release building soon, spiking with every hard thrust of Stiles dick inside him.

 

“I’m going to…I’m…I…” he pants and feels his climax hit him hard. His muscles clench and he’s coming in intense waves, seed spurting out onto the ruined bedroll beneath him.

 

Stiles, feeling the tight clench of Derek’s inner walls around him, loses any semblance of control and begins pounding into him, rocketing towards his own release with dizzying speed.

 

“Come inside me, breed me, Stiles!” Derek groans, and Stiles comes with a shout, hands gripping hard at Derek’s hips as he spills his load inside.

 

 

 

* * *

 

The dawn comes too soon for both Stiles and Derek, who spent the night wrapped in each other and lay spent. The sun spills over the horizon, and a single knife of honey light cuts into the tent, landing directly in their faces.

 

“Ugh, we should…wash” Stiles says, looking at the semen drying on his abdomen.

 

“Yeah…I really need to clean…inside…” Derek says, and despite being completely exhausted, Stiles feels interest stir at the sight of his cum splattered at Derek’s entrance and on his thighs.

 

“Let’s go…before I get distracted.” He says, getting up. Going for another round would be against his better interests.

 

They wash each other then as the world wakes up around them. Later on, they’ll have a talk about how things will change and Derek will further explain all that talk about breeding. But at the moment, Stiles is content to wipe the fluids and sweat from his skin and rejoice in the knowledge that Derek is finally, finally, his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There IS a chapter 2 y'all. Just so you know.


End file.
